The Prospective Review: A Quarterly Journal of Theology and Literature, Том 9

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John Chapman, 1853

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Страница 429 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Страница 558 - We heard him say, I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another made without hands.
Страница 411 - Thus was this place A happy rural seat of various view : Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm ; Others, whose fruit, burnished with golden rind, Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true, If true, here only, and of delicious taste. Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks Grazing the tender herb, were interposed ; Or palmy hillock, or the flowery lap Of some irriguous valley spread her store ; Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
Страница 428 - O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Страница 408 - Of tales that charmed me yet a child, Rude though they be, still with the chime Return the thoughts of early time ; And feelings roused in life's first day, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. Then rise those crags, that mountain tower. Which...
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